


Reflection of Water

by IreFizzy



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Alcohol, Lust Awakening, M/M, Mission Subplot, Pole Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreFizzy/pseuds/IreFizzy
Summary: During a mission to obtain sacred objects to Athena, one saint became a sultry distraction in a form of dance. Another evaluated his messy feelings at the same time.
Relationships: Aquarius Camus/Scorpio Milo
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Reflection of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Why pole dancing I decided to write about? Partially because of the over-active imagination I own and I love to explore that aspect.  
> Although, I managed to finish this, it was difficult to balance technical parts like the pole dancing moves without making it like a step by step tutorial. And to make it sexy...oh, oh dear. Unfortunately they don't have sex but I wanted to explore non-physical sensuality/sexuality. NSFW songs helped me through. Not-beta read.

_Milo, when I see your face, I promise to the dearest deity near me that I will kill you. Kill you._

Reflection from water reveals a red-haired man danced racy with reckless-paced number, it was his new job.

His fringe as he leaned ahead to his audience casted a dim shadow on his eyes to make them more intense. A reflection of confusing curiosity remained uninterpreted by many as his licked lips captured all their attention, it was his own goal.

Some ladies raised their sparkling wine glasses to cheer him on before consuming it hungrily. Every quick look at his audience after a slow turn around the pole, a universal woo echoed. Others observed him in a calm manner to study him like an entrancing siren who cursed their previous passionate affairs with disappointment.

Lamps of neon blue bordered around a central swimming pool. Lotus flowers lighted up in dark pink added in as an extra glow against the blue pool. Most were in their swimsuits playing in the water or watching the green jewel in front of them, the ones who had private small room with curtains only as walls are all tugged in their corners, they laid on long deck chair smothered by luxurious foam to relax their muscles. Rooms were like islands seeing that their outlines submerged by water, a canal made busy by sliver canoes of staff giving drinks to their patrons from the faraway bar. A distant sight of a busy bar, Camus shot his disapproval to folks howled under a full moon and smashed their shots.

He flipped his head back and when he stood up straight, his hands slowly caressed his chest, his fingers traced his defined chest heading to his perky nipples, gave them a soothing twist using his thumbs, it was all for show. Invisible speakers allured his hips to a seductive dance where every step forward, he sways them whilst holding his head with a fake smile seemed real. A loving glance crafted with control; his fingers felt a burn of his cheeks. Indignity fitted his modest body fighting against an urge to freeze and leave.

Appeared so crazy in his ecstasy incited some heavy shudders. Feign innocence becoming easy for an arctic outlaw like him. Living in secrecy and sin, always serving who is available so they leave him to his activities. Catwalk at the edge with quiet grace, his costume became so clear and detailed. A flimsy green halter neck top that was backless and did not hide his abs that clenched at vulgar lyrics. _Lick you. Suck you. Touch you._ He wore a short matching skirt with a slit on both sides that ended on his hip. He had golden earrings and cuffs on both of his wrists to shine his body to be worshipped.

His stage above the water to avoid any human contact and in the centre was an attached long black pole – his agreeable assistant for tonight. As he was about to turn away, a sight froze him. _Milo…?_

It was him; Camus had seen his disguise. A suave businessman with red shirt, white and gold crusted waistcoat and white trousers, his white blazer was tied around his waist. He wore his black wig to hide his blonde locks and had a poorly drawn eyebrows which made a certain spectre cry in shame. Camus raised his eyebrow to why he sips a martini at a bar smiling. Was it over? A sadistic look from his friend told him nothing. It was all Milo’s fault for everything tonight yet not being ashamed, quite the opposite as Camus picked up amusement from him as if it was a trick.

 _It was for a mission. It was for a mission._ Somehow that mantra didn’t seemed right to him anymore.

These were Milo’s words during their plan. Mission: Get Athena’s treasures that was stolen during its shipment to Greece from Japan. It was a golden sword, 17th Century painting of her owl and a pendant blessed with her blood. A man who had it currently watched Camus in his private room at the nearest right. Athena ordered them not to use their cloth because they were dealing with civilians and concluded that the man is merely a collector with no criminal links. Athena did not tell them that he got around seven armed bodyguards to protect his butt.

As they had lunch of smoked salmon and asparagus, Milo overheard a table full of ladies across them whereas Camus just stared at the ocean. Waves ripple and ombre blue sight had gone when Milo called him and discussed his new idea. After he had finished, Camus rolled his eyes to express his opinion at Milo’s stupidity. Yet his blonde partner persisted, and he genuinely didn’t know how he, Aquarius Camus, the logical one had agreed to this. It was logic who brought him here as there is no available alternatives according to Milo.

Plan: Milo caused a small attack near the venue before the show starts so all the bodyguards was with the collector. Milo take the stuff from his room whilst Camus provide the distraction as a replacement of a pole dancer who was off sick.

Camus glared at his bastard, but that shit-faced grin grew like a mischievous cat. Despite everything, he wished Milo wasn’t that attractive to destroy him though he very much wanted it. A wild idea came to him. He will lose that smirk from the Scorpion.

As Milo’s eyes trailed up from his sweaty body to his eyes, Milo was taken aback and had to blink couple of times. Right or wrong, it is certainly incomprehensible to the Scorpion. All he could see is those red hooded eyes staring at his soul and those eyelashes were thick and opened like a peacock fluttering feathers to a peahen. The way Camus licked his redden lips and how his freckles seemed to shine under his glowing blush earned a deep shudder. What made Milo nearly tipped off his seat was a quick wink from Camus before slow walk to his pole. A dedication to remember.

Camus did not reach for his pole. He paused to smell the heavy booze and his faint perfume of spicy apple and patchouli, he tapped his long, sultry high heels before leaning down towards the dancing floor where his hands touched whilst his back arched leaving his ass up in the air. All the sudden that ass dropped in a split where Camus’ legs spread out. Red nails grasped his shirt to play with it, to the left to the right, he let go the skirt so the slit matched middle of his butt; underneath he wore a silky red thong.

He made sure he glanced at Milo whilst he twerks that ass slow with a tricky tease, but when he slaps that firmness hard couple of times, the rate went faster than Milo’s heartbeats. Speaking of Milo, his mouth wide open in shock whilst remains of his expression let slip of his confusion. He had almost revealed his red nail, something had reassured him that it was really Camus on that high stage. Camus used his white cosmos to use on certain moves like when he fluttered his legs off the pole before or an aerial shoulder mount.

As his shoulders relaxed a little, Milo went back to reality as he saw Camus doing an ankle hook. Both hands grasped on the pole and spun upwards to the middle where his legs loosely folded over the pole like a buddha so that scarlet clothing is still in view. A visible budge pressed against the pole; few eyes saw a subtle grinding. So, his hands came down as did his body came slowly down to the floor. His back laid flat as his legs bend at forty-five degrees between a glistening pole.

His body shudder when he rocked his hips up and down to display a gentle wave of himself. For Milo who was at front of Camus, he only saw another nice grinding between his legs. He questions his mind, was it unintentional as he wasn’t on the side or was it another Camus’ teasing without no warning? He got some water from the bartender and splashed it on his face to cool his face off, Camus once said that the head was the hottest part of the body. That did nothing but got ridiculed by laughter of staggering drunk men. To put a thick cloud over his head a scary thought came to him; would Camus avoid him as he took such perversion towards him tonight?

“One black cherry bellini.” The bartender sneaked behind Milo to put the drink down. He didn’t bother to hide his chuckle to Milo’s smeared eyebrows that looked like a wasted white girl who he had to deal last week. Black makeup now dripped to the eyelids as if Milo applied a watery eyeshadow- zero success.

“Does he not look good tonight?” The bartender leaned towards his ear in a low, husky voice. That got Milo’s attention and turned towards him. He got light blue scruffy hair to his shoulder, his figure was lean and average height, a slight tan but it was his eyes who Milo recognised who it was. An ombre of blue with slight green at the bottom right and a glowing sea green ring was around his pupil before disappearing. Milo used restriction on the bartender’s wrists and used his cosmos to put them on the table, knocking the drink to the floor.

“What a subtle stage for a trap. What can I say, money can buy you this trash, Julian Solo or Poseidon? By the way, where’s the old bar guy?”

Poseidon just merely snorted like a pig, “Stop lying to yourself, Scorpio Milo. You led him here to the stage of water that can trapped him, make his corpse afloat I send the old man to a very long swim in the ocean. Didn’t Miss Kido call you back two hours ago?”

“Athena had no message for you, Mr Solo. After all, what I do is my responsibility. If you try to cause a scene including the gold saints of Athena, do you remember the last time? Oh yeah, your delightful demise! We had huge party afterwards to celebrate and to cut the details short: Athena with a duet with Virgo Shaka won first in a karaoke contest, her voice was so soothing and so pure…” Milo smirked at Poseidon who broke free from the restriction and fixed his cuffs.

“Dare to boost any further, Scorpion Saint after you insulted my cruise?” His voice lowered which provoke chills but did not remove his nemesis’ subordinate’s smirk away, “If you don’t mind, I was enjoying the show. I applaud your cunningness, Scorpio Milo as you made lots of people happy, _very_ happy indeed. I would be happier if I have to have him for a private dance.”

Milo had laughed properly for the first time tonight; _him_ and Camus, like white paper being called art, it was invalid. It was less believable than if he saw his predecessors among the stars being shining companion to this full moon.

“No means no, then again you had problems with consent.” Milo averted his eyes away to Camus in one move and sweat came down quickly, eyes diluted like a hypnotised person and dryness of his throat had come back. “A Negroni. On the rocks.”

“Enjoy your evening, little Scorpion.”

Milo ignored any words after giving his order out. Camus, at the floor again with his legs lifted to the moon before flipped himself over and landed in a split. At first, he flicked his long locks using his hand, most landed on his left shoulder. Hand stroked his nape. Then second time ended differently; as he flicked again, he used his head to flip his hair all over the place. Up, down, side to side, he had his long red nails scratch down his neck and faced Milo. Sure that he was watching closely, Camus played his index finger by circling a spot before scratching down to his sensitive spot not hiding his loud groan.

Milo reacted by taking a cloth and cleansing his face from the sweat and the makeup that he glared of a huge black stain that he threw it to a drunkard. Too bad his thoughts did not go away so easily. The way Camus spins around with legs off the ground and hands guiding his body back to the pole, made his mind circulated like a spinning wheel. Perhaps he had too much to drink but his honesty became a blunt weapon to him.

It was supposed to be a practical joke. He didn’t expect Camus to try to manipulate people by his dancing and enjoy it. It didn’t sense to Milo, not so ever. But the way things turned out, he wasn’t sure to reveal that side of being aroused and vulnerable was a good idea. He was weak for him as his repressed feelings had bubbled back to the service. He knew Camus wasn’t serious about the dancing, but he pulls all the strings in his perverse darkness, so everyone is under his control. He recognised the power that Camus had over him. His cosmos burns in defence and catch a glimpse of his eyes. Eyes are a window to the soul, an old saying that told him everything. He wasn’t wrong. Something else came to him, there is no malice. He didn’t hurt him or else he wouldn’t provide those erotic images haunted him, that would be unlike him. Discipline him for going too far. Perhaps so, maybe. Was it an unusual circumstance that Camus decided to fuck everything? He wished that he says yes.

But Milo was positive that Camus did not know everything or his plot. Tired of holding these thick defences, he let them go for indulgences. Camus came in like a river and nourish the dry bodies with sweat by provokes his audiences’ fantasies to life thanks to images he made of himself. Desirable, Milo noticed that he moves such smoothness like fluid, perhaps his cosmos helped him all this time, a difference felt in his hands – Camus’ warmer cosmos. No wonder Poseidon wanted him; it reminded him of the sea nymphs…

“The Naiads.“ Poseidon leaned forward intended to startle Milo which his shoulders tensed by instinct. Poseidon send out a quick wink to the Aquarius and handed Milo his drink before going away with his cloud of smug.

Camus was back with his inanimate companion, spinning around slowly. He made those dry bodies wet. Yet an unfortunate thing that he wasn’t immune to the risqué spell he had casted. Spin like a cocoon, a fantasy trapped him. It was him dancing and giving Milo a lap dance and using him like a pole. All the moves he could make anything to make Milo breathless he was now, a nice sight, en effet. He would not mind if anyone watched him, after all, he calls the shots. What provoked him to be this salacious, Camus smirked at a imaginary answer Milo could give of shock value.

That reasoning went beyond that. At first, he felt like he was serving and was sick of it. Movement grow to be his teacher. He became like liquid below him, calm with no ripple yet the atoms moved on their own energy. Every move, he gained awe and shocked faces he caused. That power brought joy to these people – it still confuses him and may not understand this until much later. But he knew he had needs to fulfil and he thanked Milo to bring this insight in a bizarre way, he will be rewarded. No saints witnessed this hence it was good to indulge.

As he clasped his right leg to hook the pole, he extended his left leg in the air and leaned backwards. Wiggled his fingers as his arms expanded out like a bird, he could see Milo opened his top three buttons and put his hand inside of his shirt, staring at him with quiet, breathy moans. Camus did not cool the warmth swirling his heart and slyly fluttered his eyelashes to tease Milo further. Then he glanced upwards…

Camus had widened his eyes in confusion and raised his eyebrow at the clock. It was above the bar, handles showing 9:30. _Nine thirty?_ He assumed that the bartender put it up for reasons. With quick maths he still in disbelieve that it been thirty minutes when he was dancing. His slot scheduled at nine. A real doubt made his hands shake a little; how Milo took so little time to deliver the objects to Athena? _It’s impossible, yes it must be._

He could not teleport without his cloth. Not for a second that Milo had completed the mission under thirty minutes that quietly and without any controversies.

He needs wisdom to clear his head. He knows who to use telepathy to.

_Goddess Athena, good evening._

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_Is that so, Goddess?_

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_He didn’t tell you, I assume._

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_Goddess. Have a good night, the issue will be mediated in the morning._

_…_

A fast song came on. The conclusion had come in a spicy height. Around him was spec of snow glistening with the neon light backdrop. They swirled together and thicken as they encircled around Camus whose hips was swaying whilst his hand held the pole. One by one, those eyes enjoying him were getting sleepy and weary. They felt they can’t move properly against the growing cold. They can’t.

They panicked at the sight of ice storm of wind and snow around the stage, scared for their life and terrified for Camus who continued to dance. The one who can move anything, the one who can freeze anything is also him. He leaned forwards to flick his hair for the last time as the song went silent, everything was finished. Couple of ice coffins applauded him. Looked like ice cubes in water. 

“Kol’sto!” Glowing rings of ice went towards the only survivor thanks to his blanket of cosmos. Milo lifted his red nail, but it was too late, the cold delayed his movement. Now both of his wrists were cuffed against a wall staring at Camus strolling to him towards leaving an ice trail. His icy wrath was evident, thoughts finding a perfect punishment. He could make Milo in his papier mâché, but not now.

Turns out Athena send out a message to Milo that the mission is cancelled because they were chasing down the wrong collector due to misinformation. This is after Aioros and Shura brought in the stuff to the Pope’s chambers during their mission. Milo had a responsibility to inform Camus about this two hours ago. _Oh, he will take responsibility all right._

Camus used to say that he had the greatest self-control and detachment of emotions; neither a pessimist or optimist in mindset; but something had burned inside of his stomach and to stray from its heat’s direction is now impossible. He loves the heat. To submerged in more and more. It is not like the world is going to end if he indulged for a day. When he returned to the Sanctuary, he will ensure things will go back to normal and be more of a faithful servant to Athena but now…

Scorpio’s plan needed to be compensated.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, if you are here, I hope you enjoy that piece. It is likely that I may need to polish this fic to the highest standard. Milo being an emotional drunk is my hcs lol. I left the ending ambiguous because I'm letting you wonderful readers to think what would happen next with the duo.  
> First time writing Poseidon, I guess I made him a Saori fanboy, I'm sorry :) 
> 
> Actually, I have idea of an alternate ending of this but it is still in the works.  
> I love to see comments of your thoughts of this work, it is appreciated.
> 
> I'm on Twitter. My 18+ and more Sts based account is @PoisonDaimon, my general account for all is @FizzyIre


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